


Once Bitten Twice Shy (working title)

by Dogsled



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, M/M, Spoilers, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-02-23
Updated: 2007-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-30 11:09:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10161869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dogsled/pseuds/Dogsled
Summary: Where does Voldemort end and Harry Potter begin? When his life culminates in the destruction of Voldemort and his own death, Harry finds a new life that is acheingly familiar. Is it a reward for a job well done, or working out the kinks in a timeline that should have gone differently? Trials, tribulations and even love wait for him on this new path. This is a story that you don't want to miss; a culmination and realisation of considered, adult theories, coupled with plot and character depth that I hope that you, the reader, cannot resist. You'll be begging for more. Hogwarts era: will be Snarry in later chapters.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [HP Fandom](http://fanlore.org/wiki/HP_Fandom_\(archive\)), which was closed for health and financial reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [HP Fandom collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hpfandom/profile).

**October 31st 1981: Nine p.m.**

The air stirred, bringing with it the faint strains of thunder and maniacal laughter, but, apart from the ominous, watery fog that had persisted for months, the sky was clear. A teen dressed in a ratty looking set of clothes and a many-pierced mask, and carrying a retro looking Boom-Box limbered across the street, and it was his machine that was playing the sounds.

_He'll save with a mighty hand_  
Every man every woman  
Every child - with a mighty flash 

He wasn’t the only child out tonight by far, joining him were girls and boys of all ages, and a good number of adults too; all going from door to door, dressed as everything from Indiana Jones to James Bond. Birds and lions made out of crepe paper and glittery fabric chased each other up and down the street, laughing and giggling.

The village of Godric’s Hollow was very much alive this Halloween. Black bats and paper skeletons decorated almost every house, and everyone seemed to be having a good time. 

Well, almost everyone. Mr. Hyde, the squib who lived on the other side of the village was complaining virulently about the youth of today and their ‘nasty Yankee habits’. Already he’d had to clean egg off his windows, and tomorrow first thing he intended to take his car into the shop to check for exhaust bombs, and repaint the wing where the oldest yobs had scratched ‘Miser’ into the paintwork.

So it was that eagle eyed Mr. Hyde was the one who saw it first, a glow that turned the fog green, and as it was tossed aside, revealed the green skull with the serpent tongue that menaced the skies and brought turmoil to the streets below.

 

**October 31st 1998**

_“Avada Kedavra!”_

It had all come down to just two words, cast from a wand with the core of a phoenix feather: two little words that signified a considerable number of sacrifices. 

For Harry, it had meant a life run by clever men with plans to grandeur; Dumbledore, whom had taken Harry’s loyalty for granted, Snape, who had forced him to the limits of his power and mind at every turn, and Voldemort, who had turned his life into this brutal adventure and written out his fate in stone.

Now, it had all come to culmination. The last part of Voldemort’s soul was to be destroyed, but when he had raised his wand, he simply couldn’t do it. If he did it, if he cast the killing curse, would he see the people that he loved again? What would they think of him then? Would his parents be proud of him? Yes, yes they would, and because he loved them, he would have revenge. Because he wanted to see his friends live happily ever after, he would provide them their safe life.

It had been only that moment’s hesitation that slowed him down, Voldemort’s wand had raised, and the arc of green light had sparked from the end of his wand, piercing the air between them both.

The spell never hit him. When it reached him it spread around him, and then it spread out, bright light filling the grand room, pulsating, glowing.

Harry opened his eyes and squinted, blinking into the light at Voldemort, who was standing still, clearly in shock.

“No…”

A single word, and despite his fear and his proximity to death, Harry felt a singular rush of exhilaration that pounded through him. What was it that scared Voldemort so very much? What was it that Dumbledore had said? Love. Love protected him. His love for his friends, his family, for those he had lost. The green seemed to glow brighter and brighter, and Harry’s heart filled with happiness, and he smiled, and looked straight into Voldemort’s crimson gaze.

“Goodbye,” he breathed.

The light grew greater still than it had been before, and then it simply seemed to flow into Voldemort, through his eyes and his ears and his nose and mouth. Harry watched, stunned, watched the green light glowing through Voldemort’s skin, filling the patterns of his thin white veins, glowing brighter and brighter, until Harry was sure that he was going to burst.

And then Voldemort exploded, shattered into a million green pieces and faded away to nothing.

At that exact moment, Harry felt a burning agony in his scar; headsplitting pain that brought him screaming to his knees. Temporarily blinded, his head span until he felt sick. The darkness slowly faded back until he could see once more, but the pain did not ebb, and there was something... something inside his head like a searing hot snake, burning him. 

When he could see once, more Snape was standing in front of him, his wand pointed down at the centre of Harry’s forehead.

“Dumbledore told me that this would happen,” he was saying. “He made plans for this.”

Harry spoke, “What are you doing?”

That wasn’t all he said, for Harry spoke again, but while he spoke, it was not him that chose the words. “Lower your wand, you fool.”

Voldemort was inside him. How could Voldemort be inside him when he was supposed to be dead?!

“So you see, Potter, I have to kill you, and end it.”

Harry stared up at Snape, along the shaft of his wand, and felt a powerful surge of fear. Fear! He wasn’t afraid of death, but Voldemort was, and he was feeling that.

Somebody else was speaking. Harry dared to look away from Snape towards the sound, a whispering…getting louder. His eyes fell on the veil in the center of the room, where the veil, tattered and worn, was trembling as though tossed in the breeze, inviting. As he looked, the voices got louder.

_“Harry, it’s Sirius. We’re waiting for you.” “Harry, darling…come to us.” “Let it be done now, Harry. Bring him to us.”_ Sirius, his mother, Dumbledore…all on the other side of the curtain, calling to him…

“What is it, Potter?” Snape sounded somewhat confused. For once, Harry understood something that Snape did not. He sighed, serenely, and stood up.

Voldemort interrupted. “No! Let me out!”

Harry smiled, and stepped away, and Snape did not move to interfere as he went to the centre of the room and climbed the steps to stand before the curtain.

“I’m going to see them again,” he said, clearly. The voices were loud – they were just on the other side of the curtain, waiting for him. He looked back towards Snape, who simply nodded once.

“Tell your mother I forgive her.”

Harry took a deep breath and moved closer, gently guiding away the veil with his arm. They were all there, waiting for him. Beyond the veil there were only light, and people, many people waiting for him. There were his parents, grandparents, Sirius, Luna. Voldemort filled his head with fresh agony, but it was too late. As he stepped forwards, it all went black.

 

**October 31st 1981: Eight thirty p.m.**

Amongst the bustle of children and parents dressed as an assortment of the terrifying and fluorescent, the arrival of three more figures in black did not disturb a single person, even when they appeared without warning in the middle of the dark street. Not a Muggle noticed the apparition, though a few did look up, expecting to see a firework through the fog.

Voldemort, unmasked, his face wrinkled around eyes that glowed like coals, his skin slightly sallow, as though there was too little of it being stretched over his body, led his two masked Death Eaters to the house.

“Say it again, Wormtail.”

The fatter of the two figures behind Voldemort seemed to quiver like a harp string, and the voice that eventually came faltered and trembled just as much. “James and Lily Potter live at Holly Cottage, Godric’s Hollow.”

Before the eyes of the three of them, the world changed. What had been trees before now faded back to reveal a stonebuilt, two story cottage, with a well kept garden. The lights were on in every room, and the silhouette of somebody moved behind one of the drawn curtains.

“Wormtail, you will stay here and keep watch. Severus… Come with me.”

Severus lingered back as Voldemort progressed up the pathway, nervous suddenly. This had never been supposed to happen. When he had told Voldemort the first part of the prophecy, under Dumbledore’s orders, he had believed that the old man knew a way to keep them safe. But he had failed.

“He needs to mark his equal, Severus. If he does not know about the threat, how will he make his decision?”

Stupid man believing in divination! Snape had never cared a jot for it, and this was why. Now, because of his stubbornness, Voldemort was going to go into that house and kill them all.

If only he could stay far enough back, he wouldn’t have to see it. He didn’t want to see it. He could pretend it wasn’t happening.

Voldemort would have none of it. He called Snape to him softly. “It is time. No child will ever destroy me, Severus. I will show you…”

“But Lily…” Severus was choking on his heart, which was blocking his throat, his head pounding with his thick heartbeat.

“The Mudblood. Yes… I will give her only one chance, Severus. I am not known for my mercy.”

That was all that was said on the matter. Voldemort turned towards the door and unlocked it with a simple spell. James Potter, just climbing the stairs, seemed surprised to see them. He let out a shout and drew his wand, and at the top of the stairs, Severus could see Lily turn and scream, disappearing around the corner.

Severus could feel no vindictive pleasure in watching James Potter fall, dead, in that blast of green light. It was so sudden, and it emptied him so suddenly of everything that he thought that he might be sick from the physical sensation. James lay dead, his face frozen in horror, crumpled where he had fallen at the bottom of the stairs.

James Potter, who had tortured him for years, ruined his life, and then saved it. Did he really deserve to be killed? The answer was no. It was horrible.

Voldemort stepped over the corpse carelessly, and swept up the stairs with all the menace that he could manage. Severus didn’t want to follow him, but he knew that Lily was at the top of those stairs. The obstacle must be passed. He tried not to look at the husk of his nemesis as he stepped over him, rushing to keep up with the longer stride of the Dark Lord.

In the bedroom, Lily Potter was standing in front of the baby’s cot, her hands braced on the wood, her eyes burning. “No,” she said, as Voldemort stepped into the room. “I won’t let you hurt my Harry!”

Disinterested, Voldemort waited until Snape was present before proceeding.

“You have one chance to live, Mudblood. Hand over the child and you walk out of here alive.”

Already Severus could tell in those beautiful eyes that she would not do it. Rather than give the sensible answer, Lily said ‘Kill me, but leave Harry out of this. He’s just a baby.”

“If that’s what you want.”

When green light met green eyes, Snape’s cry joined Lily’s scream, followed by the laughter of a contented maniac. “Outside, Severus. I will do this alone.”

Alone now, Voldemort drew an old, gnarled wand from within his robes and smiled at it. So old and used was the wand that something blue was protruding from the very tip. It didn’t seem to bother Voldemort, who set the wand on the edge of the cot and leant to draw back the blanket, but the baby was not there.

Interesting…

It could not be far – the woman simply had not had enough time to hide the baby well. So it must be in this room. A simple exploration of possible hiding places soon found the sleeping baby in the wardrobe, bundled up in a white comforter. Voldemort did not even smile. He scooped up the child and deposited him back in his cot – only now he seemed to be awake, and giggled at him, which was most discomfiting.

He must concentrate on his spell. It was not simple. He drew his wand, and pointed it to the shaft of wood that lay balanced on the edge of the cot.

“Ravenclaw’s wand,” he said, to himself, “Meet Harry Potter.”

It would have terrified anyone who saw Voldemort during those three minutes that he cursed, his words coming fast and faster, undisturbed as the seconds ticked on. _“Ego commendum templum mei vōbīs. Ego consecrare meus anima vōbīs.”_ The baby giggled again, and fell still, unaware and uncaring that it’s dead mother lay at the foot of the cot. The funny red eyed man was entertaining enough.

_“Meus anima vōbīs cum sic sacer.”_

When Voldemort moved it was sudden, and there was a brighter light still in those evil eyes as he rose his wand towards Harry. _“Avada Kedavra!”_

The spell hit the baby dead on in the middle of his forehead, but it did not kill him. The light seemed to shine from those green, death curse coloured eyes, and then it flowed out, filling the room, glowing around them, pulsating brighter and brighter.

There was no way that Voldemort could know what was happening. When the light reached breaking point, and drove into him, killing his soul and exploding what was left of his tired body into a brilliant firecracker of sparkling green light.

And Harry giggled again, innocently, as the house exploded around him with the force of it.

 

**October 31st: Just before nine**

“He told us to wait.”

“I don’t care!” Peter shouted, terrified. “He’s going to know what I’ve done. He’s going to know.”

Severus thought he knew who Pettigrew was talking about, and it certainly wasn’t the Dark Lord. No…Peter was terrified because one of his friends would know what he’d done. To be fair, Severus wouldn’t mind if Sirius Black came and ripped Pettigrew apart. The nasty little traitor would deserve it. Pettigrew would get his due, but right now…right now perhaps he had the right idea. With no sign of Voldemort still, he too was getting nervous. How long did it take to kill a baby?

Both Death Eaters were floored by the explosion of Holly Cottage. Any moment now, Voldemort would arise from the ruins, cast the Dark Mark in the sky, and they would leave. Any moment now… People had heard the explosion, and now they started to pay attention. Many wizards lived in this otherwise Muggle village, the Ministry would be here very soon, and that was not something that Severus wished to get caught up with.

Every second that ticked by made him more nervous, and still nobody emerged from the wreckage. Eventually it was simply too much for him.

_“Morsmordre!”_

Snape barely waited for the spell to leave his wand before he apparated, and Wormtail followed as soon as he’d managed to fumble his wand back between his shaking fingers.

*** * * * ***

Harry heard the cracks of apparition and opened his eyes, blinking. If he was dead, it didn’t feel too much different to being alive, but it was awfully dark. As he was thinking just that, a burst of green light illuminated everything, the clearing fog above his head, and the remains of what looked like a house nestled between trees.

The green light expanded, and formed shapes, and became recognisable for what it was. The Dark Mark. That was strange enough.

Voldemort was dead… Certainly he was no longer in Harry’s head. When he’d stepped through the veil they’d both died, hadn’t they? Yes, Harry was sure that they’d died, but here he was. Wherever here was…

No more of that… The Dark Mark was glowing, and that meant that there were Death Eaters here…Death Eaters, and death. The thought filled him with dread. Dying was supposed to make this all end! He drew his wand and lit up the end of it, pointing it around in the darkness. A woman came around the corner at high speed, her wand drawn, frizzled hair bouncing wildly. Harry almost attacked her until he realised that she was looking upon the remains of the house with horror. She turned back towards Harry, her eyes narrowed. “Are you a Death Eater?”

Harry raised his eyebrows questioningly. “If I was, do you think you’d still be standing there looking at me?” He looked away, shyly. “You know any good defensive spells?” he asked, finally taking the initiative and moving up to the gate, which hung off its hinges, as broken as the building beyond it.

“A few…you don’t think he’s here do you? You-Know-Who?”

More and more bizarre. “No,” Harry said, slowly. “He’s dead.”

Denial, maybe… but until he knew what was really going on here, it was what he had to say.

“Dead? Are you sure?”

“No, I’m not sure.” Harry said, advancing up the garden path. He stopped where the door had used to stand, but where a swathe of roof had fallen down, and lifted his wand to move the roof when someone shouted out from behind him, a man’s voice.

“What’s going on here?”

When Harry turned towards the voice, his eyes met a number of people, all looking between him and the house and the dark mark, and Harry wet his lips. The woman he’d been speaking to before, despite the threat, had concealed her wand; meaning that these people were Muggles, so Harry hid his wand too.

Just what Harry didn’t need to deal with right now. “It’s…a gas explosion. There could still be a leak, so you should get back.” He moved away from the house, pointedly, and looked around. How to explain the Dark Mark…? “The phones are dead…er…obviously, so I put up a flare,” he said. “The um…gosh, the fog has lit it up strangely, hasn’t it?”

A ripple of conversation spread over the growing crowd, an apparition noise only made the crowd back off a little from the possibly explosive house. Hagrid positively ran over Harry.

“Hagrid,” he called, reaching out to stop the giant halfway down the path.

“James, thank God yer all’ight, I thought…”

An icy spear pierced Harry, freezing him to the spot, looking up into the half-giant’s eyes.

“Yer not James,” Hagrid said, slowly. “But ye look jus’ like him.”

Harry didn’t have time to think right now, he had to reply – do something. His tongue felt sluggish, his mouth frozen somehow. He managed to form a few words though.

“We’re related. Hagrid…get Harry out, take him to the graveyard and wait for me there. I have to talk to Sirius.”

Hagrid seemed to think about questioning Harry for a moment, but then he nodded and disappeared up the garden path. No Muggle dared to interfere. Now all Harry needed to do was wait for Sirius, it wouldn’t be long, if what his godfather had told him was true. He’d gone to visit Peter, to find that the house was empty; discovering too late that Peter was the traitor.

He was back in time. Not just back in time, though, back to the time of his parents’ murder, right back to the moment at which Voldemort had first interfered in his life. And by talking to Hagrid, he had already begun to change the course of his own, or rather, baby Harry’s life.

If only he’d arrived a little earlier… He could have saved his mother and father. Tears pricked at his eyes, but he doggedly shook them away and turned around, looking up to the skies expectantly. He remembered a flying motorbike…and now he was sure why.

He didn’t have to wait long. The rumble of a motorbike coming up the street, bringing the familiar face of his godfather was a great relief, although his godfather did not know him either.

“Sirius,” he addressed the stunned young adult who was straddling the enormous motorbike, surprising him. Sirius couldn’t have been more than three years older than him – he looked so young, so amazingly alive. Harry beamed despite himself. He had another chance. Sirius was alive! But unless he got the Peter Pettigrew problem sorted out, Sirius would be sent back to Azkaban. He wouldn’t let it happen. Not this time.

So he was already settled to changing things. But if he was going to do that, he couldn’t do it as Harry Potter. That was something to think about…later.

“Do I know you?” Sirius asked, carefully.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Harry teased. “At least Hagrid could see the family resemblance.” Apparently it was the wrong thing to say, because Sirius’ face turned very grim, and he turned to the house, reminding Harry of what was happening. His parents had just died. When he turned back, his expression was just as serious. “They’re dead…and Harry destroyed Voldemort.”

Sirius flinched, and then looked at Harry incredulously. Harry lifted his finger for silence, and then continued to speak, phrasing his words ever so carefully. “You’re in more need than Harry right now, Sirius. You need to go to Dumbledore with Hagrid, and you need to tell him what you did for James and Lily, to protect them. Dumbledore is a Legilimens…he can read the truth in people, Sirius; you’ve got to trust him, like James and Lily did.”

Now the surprise was back, and Harry just smiled wistfully. “You have to get there before Wormtail does.”

That seemed to be a bit more of a shock to Sirius. “You know?”

“Yeah,” Harry said, lifting his hand up and rubbing at his ear. “Listen, 'cause this is important. Don’t look for him. If it all goes wrong, get yourself to safety first. Veritaserum will sort Peter out, not a good beating…”

Harry frowned. What now? “We need to meet Hagrid at the graveyard.” Yes, that was it. “Give me a lift?”

“You’re a very strange person,” Sirius chided, then sighed. “Come on then…”

 

**October 31st 1981: Ten p.m.**

“No questions,” Harry said, looking up into the black eyes of his godfather and his friend. “Go straight to Dumbledore as fast as you can. I’ll join you as soon as I can. You won’t forget to give that to him, will you, Hagrid?”

“No sir,” Hagrid replied, grinning through his beard, and opening his hand to reveal the silver locket that Harry had given to him. He still had it, and it still contained the note from Regulus – and he’d sent it to Dumbledore to be read. Hopefully it would intrigue him enough not to be afraid for Harry’s safety.

“Are you sure you’ll be all right with him?” Sirius asked all of a sudden, nervously.

Harry smiled, and stroked back the baby’s fringe, looking down at his bright scar. “Of course, we’re practically brothers.”

Only when Hagrid and Sirius were flying over Nottingham did they realise that they’d just entrusted the most important boy in the Wizarding World to a man that they didn’t even know the name of. They did trust him, however, and that was what was important, wasn’t it? Dumbledore would understand, the stranger had said. Fingers crossed that he did, because then he could explain it.


End file.
